like
tranquility; the true power of virtue she had scarce experienced
before, for she found it a resource against the cruellest dejection,
and a supporter in the bitterest disappointment.

CHAPTER viii.

AN EMBARRASSMENT.

The day passed on without any intelligence; the next day, also, passed
in the same manner, and on the third, which was her birthday, Cecilia
became of age.

The preparations which had long been making among her tenants to
celebrate this event, Cecilia appeared to take some share, and
endeavoured to find some pleasure in. She gave a public dinner to all
who were willing to partake of it, she promised redress to those who
complained of hard usage, she pardoned many debts, and distributed
money, food, and clothing to the poor. These benevolent occupations
made time seem less heavy, and while they freed her from solitude,
diverted her suspense. She still, however, continued at the house of
Mrs Charlton, the workmen having disappointed her in finishing her
own.

But, in defiance of her utmost exertion, towards the evening of this
day the uneasiness of her uncertainty grew almost intolerable. The
next morning she had promised Delvile to set out for London, and he
expected the morning after to claim her for his wife; yet Mr Monckton
neither sent nor came, and she knew not if her letter was delivered,
or if still he was unprepared for the disappointment by which he was
awaited. A secret regret for the unhappiness she must occasion him,
which silently yet powerfully reproached her, stole fast upon her
mind, and poisoned its tranquility; for though her opinion was
invariable in holding his proposal to be wrong, she thought too highly
of his character to believe he would have made it but from a mistaken
notion it was right. She painted him, therefore, to herself, as
glowing with indignation, accusing her of inconsistency, and perhaps
suspecting her of coquetry, and imputing her change of conduct to
motives the most trifling and narrow, till with resentment and
disdain, he drove her wholly from his thoughts.

In a few minutes, however, the picture was reversed; Delvile no more
appeared storming nor unreasonable; his face wore an aspect of sorrow,
and his brow was clouded with disappointment: he forbore to reproach
her, but the look which her imagination delineated was more piercing
than words of severest import.

These images pursued and tormented her, drew tears from her eyes, and
loaded her heart with anguish. Yet, when she recollected that her
conduct had had in view an higher motive than pleasing Delvile, she
felt that it ought to offer her an higher satisfaction: she tried,
therefore, to revive her spirits, by reflecting upon her integrity,
and refused all indulgence to this enervating sadness, beyond what the
weakness of human nature demands, as some relief to its sufferings
upon every fresh attack of misery.

A conduct such as this was the best antidote against affliction, whose
arrows are never with so little difficulty repelled, as when they
light upon a conscience which no self-reproach has laid bare to their
malignancy.

Before six o'clock the next morning, her maid came to her bedside with
the following letter, which she told; her had been brought by an
express.

_To Miss Beverley_.

May this letter, with one only from Delvile Castle, be the last that
_Miss Beverley_ may ever receive!

Yet sweet to me as is that hope, I write in the utmost uneasiness; I
have just heard that a gentleman, whom, by the description that is
given of him, I imagine is Mr Monckton, has been in search of me with
a letter which he was anxious to deliver immediately.

Perhaps this letter is from Miss Beverley, perhaps it contains
directions which ought instantly to be followed: could I divine what
they are, with what eagerness would I study to anticipate their
execution! It will not, I hope, be too late to receive them on
Saturday, when her power over my actions will be confirmed, and when
every wish she will communicate, shall be gratefully, joyfully, and
with delight fulfilled.

I have sought Belfield in vain; he has left Lord Vannelt, and no one
knows whither he is gone. I have been obliged, therefore, to trust a
stranger to draw up the bond; but he is a man of good character, and
the time of secrecy will be too short to put his discretion in much
danger. To-morrow, Friday, I shall spend solely in endeavouring to
discover. Mr Monckton; I have leisure sufficient for the search, since
so prosperous has been my diligence, that _every thing is
prepared_!

I have seen some lodgings in Pall-Mall, which I think are commodious
and will suit you: send a servant, therefore, before you to secure
them. If upon your arrival I should venture to meet you there, be not,
I beseech you, offended or alarmed; I shall take every possible
precaution neither to be known nor seen, and I will stay with you only
three minutes. The messenger who carries this is ignorant from whom it
comes, for I fear his repeating my name among your servants, and he
could scarce return to me with an answer before you will yourself be
in town. Yes, loveliest Cecilia! at the very moment you receive this
letter, the chaise will, I flatter myself, be at the door, which is to
bring to me a treasure that will enrich every future hour of my life!
And oh as to me it will be exhaustless, may but its sweet dispenser
experience some share of the happiness she bestows, and then what,
save her own purity, will be so perfect, so unsullied, as the felicity
of her!
M.D.

The perturbation of Cecilia upon reading this letter was unspeakable:
Mr Monckton, she found, had been wholly unsuccessful, all her heroism
had answered no purpose, and the transaction was as backward as before
she had exerted it.

She was, now, therefore, called upon to think and act entirely for
herself. Her opinion was still the same, nor did her resolution waver,
yet how to put it in execution she could not discern. To write to him
was impossible, since she was ignorant where he was to be found; to
disappoint him at the last moment she could not resolve, since such a
conduct appeared to her unfeeling and unjustifiable; for a few
instants she thought of having him waited for at night in London, with
a letter; but the danger of entrusting any one with such a commission,
and the uncertainty of finding him, should he disguise himself, made
the success of this scheme too precarious for trial.

One expedient alone occurred to her, which, though she felt to be
hazardous, she believed was without an alternative: this was no other
than hastening to London herself, consenting to the interview he had
proposed in Pall-Mall, and then, by strongly stating her objections,
and confessing the grief they occasioned her, to pique at once his
generosity and his pride upon releasing her himself from the
engagement into which he had entered.

She had no time to deliberate; her plan, therefore, was decided almost
as soon as formed, and every moment being precious, she was obliged to
awaken Mrs Charlton, and communicate to her at once the letter from
Delvile, and the new resolution she had taken.

Mrs Charlton, having no object in view but the happiness of her young
friend, with a facility that looked not for objections, and scarce saw
them when presented, agreed to the expedition, and kindly consented to
accompany her to London; for Cecilia, however concerned to hurry and
fatigue her, was too anxious for the sanction of her presence to
hesitate in soliciting it.

A chaise, therefore, was ordered; and with posthorses for speed, and
two servants on horseback, the moment Mrs Charlton was ready, they set
out on their journey.

Scarce had they proceeded two miles on their way, when they were met
by Mr Monckton, who was hastening to their house.

Amazed and alarmed at a sight so unexpected, he stopt the chaise to
enquire whither they were going.

Cecilia, without answering, asked if her letter had yet been received?

"I could not," said Mr Monckton, "deliver it to a man who was not to
be found: I was at this moment coming to acquaint how vainly I had
sought him; but still that your journey is unnecessary unless
voluntary, since I have left it at the house where you told me you
should meet to-morrow morning, and where he must then unavoidably
receive it."

"Indeed, Sir," cried Cecilia, "to-morrow morning will be too late,--in
conscience, in justice, and even in decency too late! I _must_,
therefore, go to town; yet I go not, believe me, in' opposition to
your injunctions, but to enable myself, without treachery or
dishonour, to fulfil them."

Mr Monckton, aghast and confounded, made not any answer, till Cecilia
gave orders to the postilion to drive on: he then hastily called to
stop him, and began the warmest expostulations; but Cecilia, firm when
she believed herself right, though wavering when fearful she was
wrong, told him it was now too late to change her plan, and repeating
her orders to the postilion, left him to his own reflections: grieved
herself to reject his counsel, yet too intently occupied by her own
affairs and designs, to think long of any other.

CHAPTER ix.

A TORMENT.

At----they stopt for dinner; Mrs Charlton being too much fatigued to
go on without some rest, though the haste of Cecilia to meet Delvile
time enough for new arranging their affairs, made her regret every
moment that was spent upon the road.

Their meal was not long, and they were returning to their chaise, when
they were suddenly encountered by Mr Morrice, who was just alighted
from his horse.

He congratulated himself upon the happiness of meeting them with the
air of a man who nothing doubted that happiness being mutual; then
hastening to speak of the Grove, "I could hardly," he cried, "get
away; my friend Monckton won't know what to do without me, for Lady
Margaret, poor old soul, is in a shocking bad way indeed; there's
hardly any staying in the room with her; her breathing is just like
the grunting of a hog. She can't possibly last long, for she's quite
upon her last legs, and tumbles about so when she walks alone, one
would swear she was drunk."

"If you take infirmity," said Mrs Charlton, who was now helped into
the chaise, "for intoxication, you must suppose no old person sober."

"Vastly well said, ma'am," cried he; "I really forgot your being an
old lady yourself, or I should not have made the observation. However,
as to poor Lady Margaret, she may do as well as ever by and bye, for
she has an excellent constitution, and I suppose she has been hardly
any better than she is now these forty years, for I remember when I
was quite a boy hearing her called a limping old puddle."

"Well, we'll discuss this matter, if you please," said Cecilia, "some
other time." And ordered the postilion to drive on. But before they
came to their next stage, Morrice having changed his horse, joined
them, and rode on by their side, begging them to observe what haste he
had made on purpose to have the pleasure of escorting, them.

This forwardness was very offensive to Mrs Charlton, whose years and
character had long procured her more deference and respect: but
Cecilia, anxious only to hasten her journey, was indifferent to every
thing, save what retarded it.

At the same Inn they both again changed horses, and he still continued
riding with them, and occasionally talking, till they were within
twenty miles of London, when a disturbance upon the road exciting his
curiosity, he hastily rode away from them to enquire into its cause.

Upon coming up to the place whence it proceeded, they saw a party of
gentlemen on horseback surrounding a chaise which had been just
overturned; and while the confusion in the road obliged the postilion
to stop Cecilia heard a lady's voice exclaiming, "I declare I dare say
I am killed!" and instantly recollecting Miss Larolles, the fear of
discovery and delay made her desire the man to drive on with all
speed. He was preparing to obey her, but Morrice, gallopping after
them, called out, "Miss Beverley, one of the ladies that has been
overturned, is an acquaintance of yours. I used to see her with you at
Mrs Harrel's."

"Did you?" said Cecilia, much disconcerted, "I hope she is not hurt?'

"No, not at all; but the lady with her is bruised to death; won't you
come and see her?"

"I am too much in haste at present,--and I can do them no good; but
Mrs Charlton I am sure will spare her servant, if he can be of any
use."

"O but the young lady wants to speak to you; she is coming up to the
chaise as fast as ever she can."

"And how should she know me?" cried Cecilia, with much surprise; "I am
sure she could not see me."

"O, I told her,", answered Morrice, with a nod of self-approbation for
what he had done, "I told